


there is no curse on you

by perculious



Series: change our prison to a sanctuary [2]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Reconciliation, nonbinary MC, ray's route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 20:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perculious/pseuds/perculious
Summary: Saeyoung knows Saeran doesn't care about how sorry he feels, or how miserable thinking about his mistakes makes him. He just needs Saeyoung to be a better brother. That's the thing he keeps failing at.(the Saeyoung sequel toghosts in my house. )





	there is no curse on you

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [ghosts in my house](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779783), but if you haven't read that, all you have to know is that Saeran and Saeyoung are living together post-Saeran route, and they have a skylight. I like to write MC as nonbinary, so I used they/them pronouns, and she/her for Vanderwood because that's what Saeyoung uses. Title is from "Carry Me" by Family of the Year. Thank you to my friend doxian for the beta read!

Saeyoung wakes up in darkness, gasping for breath. Something soft and heavy presses against his mouth. Warmth prickles his skin all over, panic rising. Thoughts come together, recombining and breaking apart again, lava lamp bubbles in his head. It coalesces suddenly: what's over his face is the blanket. He's wrapped it around himself in his sleep. He pushes it down and swallows cool air, fighting through the dizziness.

The dream is slipping away. Sand through his fingers. He lets it go. All he can remember is darkness and the smell of wet cement, which means he probably dreamt of the warehouse. Vanderwood's distorted face wavers in his mind's eye, her features blurred. Did he dream that, or is he having trouble remembering what she looks like? He closes his eyes, opens them again, blinks at the ceiling.

He's regained consciousness enough to disentangle himself from the blanket. The quality of light creeping under his doorway says he probably overslept. Although "overslept" implies there was a time he should have been awake. He has no agency job anymore and there's been no news from V. Saeyoung is a laptop in sleep mode, waiting for someone to need him again.

He rolls over and puts his face in a pillow. His body crinkles an empty chip bag that was sharing the bed with him. _Sorry, comrade Honey Buddha._

Vanderwood is a big gray space inside him. Maybe the fact that he keeps dreaming of her is guilt. But when he tries, he can't feel guilty. There's no grief either, even though he's pretty sure she's dead. Just an error page. A little beach ball cursor waiting for an emotion to be inputted.

His legs are concrete and his heart is a neutron star weighing down his chest. Getting out of bed is impossible. He listens to his own breath as it travels in and out.

There's a knock on the door. Saeran. Saeyoung's heart jumps to attention and his eyes snap open, lashes brushing against cotton. His brother.

He makes some kind of noise indicating that Saeran can come in, and rolls over again. Now he's diagonal on the bed, one ankle hanging freely in the air. He gropes for his glasses. A memory flashes: he took them off right as he was falling asleep and stashed them somewhere in the bed. He wriggles his hand under the pillow and his fingers touch another chip bag. Probably a chip bag.

"Hey." Saeran's voice is deeper than his own. Another thing that's happened in the past five years.

"Thank God you're here," Saeyoung says. "I've been the target of a horrible government experiment. I've become strongly allergic to the air outside this room." His hand closes around smooth plastic. His glasses are shoved in the crack between the mattress and the headboard.

"I just came in to tell you Yoosung's coming over," Saeran says.

"I'm not kidding. My _get out of bed_ program has completely run down. Total coding failure. Wait." He pushes his glasses onto his nose. There's a smudge on the lens right over Saeran's face. "Yoosung's coming over now?"

"Soon. He's teaching me to cook."

"Yoosung knows how to cook?" Saeyoung turns his head. Saeran's face slides in and out of the smudge. Brother. No brother.

"More than me. I’ve always liked it but I haven’t had much chance to learn.” Saeran shrugs. “Just wanted to let you know."

"Okay." Saeyoung shuts the eye behind the smudged lens, giving Saeran a wink and a thumbs up. "Agent 707 acknowledging receipt of information regarding Agent Kim."

"You're not Agent 707 anymore." Saeran is no fun. He narrows his eyes at Saeyoung. "Are you okay?"

Saeyoung's heart seizes. Having his brother express a concern at him is too much. "Yep yep," he says. "What time is it?"

"Two pm."

"Ah." Saeran likes to watch the light change through the skylight as the sun rises, so he's probably been up for a while. So much time spent forcibly separated, and Saeyoung is ruining the time they have now with his stupid sleep habits. He doesn't know what time he put down his phone last night and let his eyes fall closed. But just telling himself not to do that anymore has never seemed to help. "I'll get up," Saeyoung assures him.

"You don't have to. I was just letting you know." Saeran turns and shuts the door. Anxiety tightens Saeyoung's throat at the sight of Saeran leaving. He breathes. Saeran lives here and he's safe and happy. Saeyoung is never going to let anyone separate them again.

Saeran is happy. That's the truth. He has friends—he's always stepping out to visit Zen or Jaehee or someone, and he's in a romantic relationship with one of the nicest, prettiest people Saeyoung has ever met. If that's true, does Saeyoung have the right not to be okay? Can he ask for anything more from the world when he gets to see Saeran smile? When Saeran is safe?

He takes his glasses off again and lets his surroundings blur into nothingness.

\--

Yoosung arrives with three big grocery bags, which he immediately drops to throw his arms around Saeyoung.

" _Seven_ ," he wails. "I know you've been on the messenger but I wanted to see you so bad! We thought you were dead! Jumin kept saying there was every chance you were alive, but after losing Rika—and Saeran telling us about your dad—and all those news reports, I really really thought you were dead, Saeyoung!"

Saeyoung brings a hand up to pat Yoosung's back. "Maybe I am," he says. "Maybe what you see before you is just the ghost of Seven Oh Seven, come to take revenge on Yoosung for missing LOLOL raids."

"It's not funny! You can't joke about it." Yoosung pushes Saeyoung back so he can look at him, hands gripping Saeyoung's shoulders. "Although if you're joking maybe you really are fine."

 _Shows what you know,_ Saeyoung thinks. He's pretty sure his joking protocols would kick in even if the rest of him was legally braindead. He flashes Yoosung a big grin. "I'm fine. But it's okay if you just wanted an excuse to hold me close."

"Gross." Yoosung drops him. His foot brushes one of the grocery bags, and he startles. "Oh! I dropped the groceries. There were eggs in there!" He drops to his knees, tending to the food.

"We have some, anyway," Saeran says.

"I thought we could make noodles..." Yoosung gathers the bags up again and straightens, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Saeyoung! Do you want to have a cooking lesson too?"

"Can't you cook?" Saeran says, looking at Saeyoung sideways. Saeyoung's pulse hammers in his throat. It's so easy to say the wrong thing with Saeran these days. Maybe it should make him want to talk to Saeran less. Instead, words tumble out of his mouth constantly. Like if he doesn't know what to say, his stupid brain makes him say everything.

"Of course I can," he says. "Honey Buddha chip sandwich, Honey Buddha chip crumble, Ph. D Pepper smoothie..."

Yoosung snorts. "Seven—Saeyoung—has a terrible dietary regime," he says. "Didn't you used to have a maid, though? Did she cook for you?"

The gray space inside him pulses. "Oh, yes. Delicious homecooked meals provided by Ms. Vanderwood! A gourmet delight!"

"I think I'd rather have Yoosung teach just me for now," Saeran mutters. Saeyoung glances at him, but Saeran won't catch his eye. 

He knows exactly why Saeran is irritated. Through instinct or twin connection or just knowing Saeran for a very long time. The knowledge sinks into his bones, deflating him entirely.

"That's much better,” he says. “I wouldn't want to embarrass Yoosung with how much more knowledgeable I am."

"Okay," Yoosung says. "But, Saeyoung! I really want to catch up! Later, okay?"

Saeyoung flashes a peace sign at him. Saeran disappears in the direction of the kitchen, Yoosung shuffling after him with his bags.

Saeyoung sinks down onto the couch. The sun beats down on his head through the skylight. It's completely unnatural and probably unhealthy to have sunlight inside your own home. The sun belongs outside. He grabs a pillow and holds it over his head to block the light.

Saeran loves it. Saeyoung has seen him go outside and sit on the grass just to chat on the messenger app, squinting to see the screen. When he's indoors, Saeran will watch the clouds or the stars through the skylight, going hours without moving or talking.

Saeyoung needs the constant flicker of text on a screen to quiet the gnawing in his insides. Outside makes his skin itch and just staring at the sky makes his brain run itself into the ground. When he goes into the main living space he sidesteps the square of sunlight on the floor, eyes bleary.

Saeran's had it so much worse than him. While Saeyoung was holed up in his bunker, drinking soda and buying sports cars, Saeran was going through hell in the dark Magenta building. Saeyoung could have done anything he wanted. He could have gone outside every day, made an entire encyclopedia of the clouds, become an award-winning chef with all the stupid freedom he's had. Instead he sits inside and plays video games. No wonder Saeran hates him.

A peal of laughter comes from the other room. Yoosung? No. It's Saeran laughing. Saeyoung's chest constricts so tightly he struggles to breathe. He brings down the pillow to hug it.

He can't remember the last time he heard Saeran laugh, even back when they lived together. It was a kid's laugh then, soft and unsure.

When Yoosung leaves, Saeyoung is going to give him a real hug. He can't flood his brother with affection, but he can press Yoosung to his chest and thank him, as much as possible, for giving Saeran something to be happy about.

\--

When Saeyoung comes home from the store, Saeran is sitting on the couch. His face is waxy and pale, reminding Saeyoung of childhood fevers. He doesn't look at Saeyoung. His expression is still and pinched, but his fingers jitter on his knees. No twin telepathy necessary to tell he's having a bad day.

"You okay?" Saeyoung closes the door, hand reaching out on instinct to reset the security system before remembering Saeran disabled it months ago.

Saeran doesn't look at him. "Fine."

Saeyoung presses his lips together. There is an awful nervous energy that lives in him. At the best times it makes him scour pages and pages of code without stopping or sleeping. Or it operates his fingers when they need to do something, making gadgets and toys. Most of the time it just feels like fear. Saeran's tired face is making it rise, bubbling up in Saeyoung until it spills out as words he can't keep in.

"Did something happen? Do you need anything? Did something make you think of mom?"

"Shut up, Saeyoung." A stab. He deserves that. But it hurts all the way through his body.

He used to know Saeran better than he knew himself. He used to be able to pitch his tone perfectly to comfort Saeran, or make exactly the right face behind their mom's back to make Saeran smile. Now he's lost the map. Every word that leaves his mouth has to cross the forty-mile desert between them to reach Saeran's ears, and they seem to pick up new meanings on the way.

_I love you, Saeran._

Instead he goes and sits on the other end of the couch, careful to angle his body so there's no chance of him touching his brother accidentally.

Saeran breathes, slow and measured.

"Sorry." Saeran's voice is quiet. "I didn't mean that. I don't feel very well."

"Are you sick? Or just..." Saeyoung doesn't know how to ask about the alternative. Saeran shrugs, a quick jerk of a gesture. Saeyoung watches his throat move as he swallows.

"No. Just thinking. I don't want to talk about it."

"Mhm."

For years, V told him Saeran was fine. He must have always known it was a lie, at least in part. Saeyoung himself was never fine. Not only because he was working for the agency, but because of how he spent the first fifteen years of his life. He was followed by bad thoughts and bad dreams, sense memories of being hurt and the inability to stop worrying that something scary was about to happen. It was a stupid, short-sighted mistake to believe that Saeran could possibly have been fine.

But still. Saeyoung was in a daze when the team C&R assembled broke into the warehouse, loosed the ropes around his ankles and busted him out. He stumbled into Jumin's helicopter, mute, disbelieving. Jumin had to reach over and buckle his seatbelt for him. _Luciel. Do you know where you are and what's happening?_ No. He was in space, somewhere near the Oort Cloud. His body didn't feel like his own. And then Jumin: _Your brother figured out where you were_ , and he was back, everything too loud as his senses took in every detail all at once. His brother.

Jumin tried to explain Mint Eye, but all Saeyoung had been able to take in was that Saeran was not okay. That, Jumin said, he was _making good progress in his recovery_ , which meant that he had been extremely not okay. And when he'd demanded to know where V was, so he could understand how this happened, Jumin went silent. He was trapped in a few cubic meters of helicopter and his world fell into pieces and shattered at his feet.

Now he looks at Saeran, trying to imagine what he went through. The details are still murky—Jumin didn't know all of them, and MC wanted Saeran to decide what to tell Saeyoung. So he doesn't know what's behind Saeran's eyes when he stares at the floor like this. Saeran is reliving things Saeyoung can only guess.

He curls his fingers on his knees, curbing the urge to reach out. It would be more to comfort himself than Saeran.

"I was gonna play some LOLOL," he says. "You wanna play?"

He expects Saeran to refuse outright, but after a moment, he says, "What's LOLOL?"

"Umm." Saeyoung looks at Saeran, and Saeran's gaze slants back at him through sweat-dampened bangs. He looks too miserable for Saeyoung to be funny or weird at him. "An RPG. Role-playing game. You make a character and then you go around doing little quests... you can team up with other people too."

Saeran lifts one shoulder and drops it. "I've never played a video game before."

"You're so good with computers, though." An immediate squeeze of regret. Saeran's good at hacking because Rika forced him. Come on, Saeyoung. "I mean, I bet you'd get good really quickly. I'd be happy to show you."

Saeran looks back at the sofa. Saeyoung braces himself for the denial. It's not the rejection he's nervous about, but the flood of self-recrimination that will follow. His brain is gearing up to let him know how dumb he was for suggesting it in the first place, how obvious it is that his brother doesn't want to hang out, how bad he is at cheering Saeran up.

"Okay," Saeran says. It's so soft, it takes a moment for the word to make its way past Saeyoung's ears and reach his brain. Relief floods him.

"Cool!" he says. Gotta make it seem like he's not being too weird about it though. "Cool."

Saeran follows him to his setup of desktop monitors. He's listless, floating behind Saeyoung like a bleached-out echo. Like Saeyoung's ghost. Saeyoung pulls a chair up to sit next to him, leaning over to bring up the game and sign onto the server. He doesn't miss the way Saeran sways back, like a reed pushed by the current, when he moves forward.

A tiny jab. Saeyoung was being careful not to brush him. He ignores it.

"So, the first thing you have to do is create a character," he says. "See, these are the races, that's kind of like the default body shape, and then you can customize it..."

The character creator screen isn't very intuitive, but Saeran picks it up quickly. Saeyoung watches him tear through the options like he already knows what he's looking for. After a few mouse clicks, it's clear that he's just recreating himself on the screen, as closely as possible. White hair. Mint eyes.

Saeyoung bites the inside of his cheek. When he first started playing LOLOL, he tried to make a character as different from Saeyoung—or 707—as possible. Is Saeran really this comfortable being Saeran? Maybe it's just that Saeran, even at his most distraught, has always been bad at escapism. Saeyoung used to make up imaginary lives for them all the time—chatting to Saeran about the two of them being lost princes, or astronauts discovering an alien planet, or aliens themselves, part of their own secret two-person alien culture. Saeran would smile at him, even laugh sometimes if Saeyoung was being really goofy, but he never bought into it.

Saeyoung remembers once watching the smile fall off Saeran's face as they heard the front door unlatch. He leaned forward and whispered "Don't worry! We're on planet Jupiter, remember?" Saeran just looked at him with wide eyes and said, "But we're not, _hyung_. We're here."

He tries now to pierce through whatever sad thoughts are still cluttering up Saeran's head. "Ah," he says. "Such a handsome visage. Almost as nice as mine."

Saeran snorts. A spark that Saeyoung wants to nurture into a flame. "But come on, don't you think it'd look good with some kitty ears? A dragon tail?"

"No." Saeran ignores him, continuing to click.

"Wings? There are so many wing options, Saeran, you have to look."

"Does it give you any advantages? In the game?"

"Well, no, but it's really—"

"No wings." Saeran goes back to clicking.

"You're no fun," Saeyoung says.

"Nope. I'm no fun."

Saeran is having fun, though, right? At least a little. At least he seems less preoccupied than he did before. Saeyoung studies his brother's face, searching for signs that he's enjoying himself. Saeran is too deadpan. Saeyoung squashes the pathetic desire to ask if he's really mad about Saeyoung teasing.

Sometimes, even now, Saeyoung misses him. The thought makes his stomach curdle with guilt.

He pushes the feeling aside, and continues to shepherd Saeran into gameplay. As he expected, Saeran picks it up easily, despite the confusing LOLOL layout. Saeran's knack for understanding complex systems can't be from familiarity (no tech in their childhood home) or passion (now that he's not being forced, he barely touches computers). He's just good at figuring things out. It's a pure, intrinsic part of Saeran that hasn't been muddled by all the ways people have pushed and pulled at his identity. Saeyoung's heart swells, watching it.

"Okay," he says, once he's sure Saeran has mastered all the controls. "So you're at level one, so you're pretty vulnerable right now. If you head off into this area"—he points—"you can find some low-level monsters to kill and get some easy XP. Experience points."

"What?" The on-screen version of Saeran jumps a few times, then crouches.

"Here." Saeyoung taps the part of the screen leading to the wilderness area.

"I got that." Saeran's voice is brusque. "What am I supposed to do?"

"If you go there I can show you—there are some little trolls and bugs and you can just hit them with your sword and they'll die, like, right away. You can level up really quickly in the beginning, it gets harder later, but if you can get to level three then you can equip more gear—"

"No."

"—what?" Saeyoung retracts his hand from the screen.

"I don't want to kill anyone."

Saeran's hands are frozen on the keyboard. Saeyoung's words die in his throat.

His voice, when it comes out, is rougher. "It's just a game, Saeran."

"What kind of game is that?" Saeyoung has to strain to hear him. "You hit things and they die?"

"It's, um..." Saeyoung's heart is pounding against his chest. "It's just, like, a way of getting points. It's not graphic or anything, just like... but you don't have to do it. We could go back to the village, buy some new gear—"

“Is there any other way to get points?”

“Ah.” Saeyoung scoots back a little in his chair. “I mean, you get them from completing quests, but the quests usually involve... killing.”

“I see.” Saeran lifts his hands from the keyboard and places them in his lap. "I think I'm done playing." 

If there were any signs of enjoyment in Saeran, they're gone now. His voice is drained of color, his shoulders slumped.

"O-Okay." Saeyoung wants to reach out and hug his brother, tell him he's sorry he suggested this, anything. But any of that is just going to push Saeran further away from him. He breathes through his nose, steady, measured breaths. His ribcage is crushing his lungs. "Um," he tries. "Is there anything I can do to—"

"It's fine." Saeran abruptly pushes the chair back from the computer and stands. He's still for a moment. "I was already feeling bad," he says finally. "So it's not your fault. Can you just please leave me alone for a bit?"

Saeyoung barely has enough breath to speak. "Sure."

Saeran nods, turns, and walks away. After a minute, Saeyoung hears the door to his brother's room close.

Saeyoung lowers his face to his hands, letting out a quiet groan. How stupid is he? Of course Saeran doesn't want to play a game where you gain points the more people you hurt. He's spent way too much of his life around people who wanted to hurt him. Stupid, horrible, thoughtless.

He wants so badly to go make it right. To let Saeran see how sorry he is, and how deeply he knows that he messed up. But that's another one of those things that would help him more than Saeran. Saeran doesn't care how sorry Saeyoung feels, or how miserable thinking about his mistakes makes him. He just needs Saeyoung to be a better brother. That's the thing he keeps failing at.

He doesn't know how long he spends sitting there with his head down, until a sound disturbs him. A knock on the door.

He opens it to see MC. He thinks of them as "Saeran's person" first these days, even though he was starting to be friends with them before. Their cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, their bare arms covered in goosebumps.

"Hi Saeyoung! I'm here for Ray." Ray is Saeran. Saeyoung knows that by now, although he doesn't know why Saeran has two names, or why MC seems to be the only one who alternates between them.

"He's in his room." Saeyoung jerks his head back in gesture. MC smiles and thanks him, then quickly steps past him to go to Saeran's room.

Saeyoung closes the door. Locks it. Then he walks to his own room and falls onto the bed, face down. His body is getting heavy again.

There's a horrible darkness that lives on the edges of his existence. There's only so far he can beat it back before it drowns him. The fight starts anew every day, wrestling the darkness to get out of bed, then trying to outrun it with games or jokes until it outpaces him and drags him to the ground again. It's easier to fight back when he's putting on a front for Saeran. Now it washes over him, wave after wave beating against a rocky shore. He's falling through it, losing sight of any handholds.

The walls are thin. He hears soft murmurs coming from his brother's room—MC, he thinks—and a series of wet choking sounds. Something tears all the way through Saeyoung's guts. He's deeply familiar with the sound of his brother crying.

He doesn't need to be the one to comfort Saeran. He doesn't need Saeran to include him, or even to like him. He just needs Saeran to be safe and happy. If that means Saeyoung has to harbor this black hole where his insides are supposed to be, then that's what it takes.

MC’s gentle voice forms unintelligible words through the wall. It's so calming Saeyoung almost feels soothed himself. Saeran's found someone amazing, who can do more for him and better than Saeyoung has ever managed. His heart fills up and overflows, the excess leaking out his eyes. He wipes his snotty nose on the blanket.

He's spent the last six years thinking that everything he did was keeping Saeran safe. The thought of Saeran ran a live current through his veins. It reanimated the corpse he became after leaving. Now the agency—the deadly assignments, the crushing pressure, the threat of pain and death—is gone. The spark in him is gone too.

The darkness sits heavy in his throat.

He listens for a long time.

-

The job interview goes badly.

It was supposed to be a formality, a nod to protocol at Jumin's company after Jumin said he would hire Saeyoung on to help manage the information unit. (Renamed, by Jaehee's tactful suggestion now that they're not in a hacker battle, as the cybersecurity department.) But when Saeyoung showed up, his interviewer was someone he had never met before, who apparently had not been briefed by Jumin about Saeyoung's situation. He grilled Saeyoung about the sparseness of his resume, his lack of references, even his reluctance to give out his home address. Saeyoung knows that his background is now public knowledge, but he couldn't quite bring himself to mention his father in explanation. Instead, he made a couple weak jokes, and the interviewer looked at him like he was a piece of wet cardboard.

He leaves the office feeling like gravity is weighing on him stronger than ever. He didn't even want a job at C&R, but it was something Jumin offered, and it felt like something he should do. He should be working towards building a normal life.

Saeyoung imagines himself waking up, going to an office, managing a team. The image has no relationship to any part of him that currently exists. He runs it through the 707 personal file and the program returns a big fat red X. Like when he was a kid dreaming of a normal life for him and Saeran. It was easier to imagine them as aliens.

It was easier to find a job where he hid in the dark, only motivated by the thought that if agency finally got sick of his shit and bumped him off, Saeran would be on his own.

He'd been, as Vanderwood loved to remind him, their best and worst agent. Knowing exactly how much incompetence and procrastination they would tolerate before he had to pull a flash of brilliance out of his back pocket to remind them he was indispensable. It was how he handled everything else, too. Watching the RFA members get annoyed while he spammed nonsense. Watching V pull away from him when he asked too many questions. Then pulling off some coup de grace of programming to remind them why they kept him around. Skipping every class, then pulling a 100% on the final exam in having friends.

If there are no security threats. No agency work. No one to hack. No V. Is there any point to Saeyoung? As an RFA member or as a friend?

He's not floating in space this time. No galaxies. It's just darkness, emptiness pressing in on his brain. He's dissolving into nothing.

When he gets home, Saeran is in the kitchen with the door propped open. He seems to be whisking intently. Saeyoung checks for signs of MC, but they must have gone home already. He stumbles over to the couch and sits, feeling like he's moving through a wall of jelly.

"How was the job interview?" Saeran says.

Saeyoung reaches for the strength to grin and make a joke about it. It's always been there before. 

This time the search comes up empty. He exhales. "It was good."

"Saeyoung?" Saeran stops whisking and looks up at him. Saeyoung forces the corners of his mouth up. Why can't he pull it together right now? He's always been able to put on a front for Saeran in the past. He's run this particular piece of code too many times, and it's starting to break down. His joints are rusting.

"It was good!" he says again, trying to put some more energy into it. The smile on his face feels twisted. "Just odd to be asking for a job in a big company like that. I'm sure it'll all work out!"

Saeran narrows his eyes at him. "You're acting weird."

"Aren't I always weird?" Saeyoung says quickly.

"Yeah. But." Saeran puts the bowl down. "Are you okay?"

"Um." For some reason Saeran asking that question makes his heart race uncomfortably. His face flushes warm. There's only ever been one answer he could give when talking to his brother. "Yes, fine!"

Saeran takes a step toward him. "Saeyoung, you—"

"I'm gonna go to my room, actually," Saeyoung babbles. "I'm gonna work on—code—"

"—you look like you're about to cry."

"I'm not," Saeyoung says. His eyes burn hot. He blinks hard a couple of times. "I mean, it was really nice of Jumin to offer me a job, so, I'm looking forward to—um." The frantic rhythm of his heart is pushing every other system in his body into overdrive. Anxious energy dances through his veins. "I can tell you about it later," he says. He turns and starts to flee, but within a few steps he feels Saeran's hand on his arm.

"Stop it," Saeran says. "What's wrong?"

Now he is in danger of crying. He glances up at the ceiling, breathing through his nose until the tears go back into his eyes.

"I don't want to talk to you about it," he says.

"Why not?"

"Because—" Saeyoung's breath is working hard to push past the constriction in his throat. Because every instinct he's ever had is telling him not to upset Saeran. He can't talk about how he feels to anyone, but if there was a list, Saeran would be at the bottom. "You have enough to worry about," he manages.

Saeran is silent behind him. Saeyoung is desperate to see his expression, but turning to face him would expose himself to scrutiny as well.

"Is it something I would have to worry about?" Saeran says finally.

Saeyoung closes his eyes. So stupid to say that! Now Saeran is really going to think something is wrong.

"Um." The pressure behind his eyes is growing again. He blinks rapidly.

"Saeyoung. Look at me."

Yesterday, Saeran said to him, _Leave me alone._. Saeyoung wishes for the nerve to say the same. He hunches his shoulders, his gaze fixating on a knot in the wood floor.

"Fine." Saeran drops his hand. "You don't have to talk to me."

Guilt wraps tendrils around Saeyoung's chest. He never meant to shut Saeran out. It's never occurred to him that Saeran might want to hear about his problems, not when his role in Saeran's life is to be the person who fixes everything. Why would Saeran want to hear him complain about his life, when he left Saeran alone in misery for so long?

"It's just... Listen." Saeran's voice is different. Softer. More like the Saeran he used to know. "It really helps to just say it. Even the things that you think you can't say to anyone. Trust me."

Saeyoung stills, his breath frozen in his lungs. This is not like the Saeran he used to know. This is the Saeran who clawed his way back from kidnapping and brainwashing. He must know something about resilience that Saeyoung doesn't.

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together before speaking. If his voice shakes he'll fall apart on the spot, little pieces of Saeyoung raining down for Saeran to sweep up off the floorboards. God, his brain won't stop throwing stupid ideas at him even now.

"How did you get yourself to say it?"

Saeran lets out a shaky laugh. "I didn't really think about it very much. I was a mess and I was on drugs. It just kind of all came out. But it helped. Really. And it... keeps helping. When I make myself say what I'm thinking. So I keep doing it."

"With MC?"

"Yeah."

Maybe Saeyoung should call MC. That almost makes him laugh. His breath catches instead, a horrible, choking sound. 

If Saeran wants him to talk, he can make the effort. The floorboards wobble in his vision. It doesn't matter what he says to his brother, after all, not when every path forward from here is full of the same emptiness. He can't seem to access the part of his brain that cares about consequences.

He reaches for words. Whatever is happening to him is too big and amorphous.

"I don't know what's wrong," he says. Blood pounds in his ears, loud enough to make his voice sound distorted and far away. "Things haven't been right since I came back. If you don't need me and the RFA doesn't need me, I don't know what to do with myself anymore. And I don't think getting a job at Jumin's company is going to help."

Saeran's silence is absolute. Saeyoung doesn't hear any sign of heavy breathing or fidgeting. His brother is just taking in what he said and putting together a response.

"I never said I didn't need you," he says finally.

That gets Saeyoung to turn and look at him. Saeran's face is impassive. He gazes at Saeyoung, his body held taut.

 _But you won't let me in._ He doesn't want to say it because Saeran has already been so much more forgiving of him than he deserves. He'll take whatever Saeran is ready to give him. It would be cruel to demand more, especially when he's already said he's trying to forgive.

Instead he says, "It's okay that you're still angry with me, Saeran."

Saeran huffs a frustrated breath. "I'm angry at you because you weren't around, dumbass. Because you left. So now, I want you around."

"Oh." An odd lightness fills Saeyoung's chest. "Really?"

"I told you to come live here, so you can stop acting unwanted."

Saeyoung's body is fragile, and this shakes every part of him. He weathers the hit, breathing through it. Relief fills his head with dizziness.

"I'm sorry."

This just seems to frustrate Saeran more. "I know, you've apologized like five hundred times already."

"For leaving, not for—

"I don't care. I don't need it."

Saeyoung nods slowly.

"Yeah," he says. "I know you don't want to hear about—how bad I feel, how guilty. So that's why I can't talk to you about what I'm feeling. Because you asked me not to. You said you didn't want to hear that I missed you or that I had a hard time without you."

"I don't." The answer comes immediately, and it hurts. Saeyoung can't keep eye contact when Saeran is staring at him like this, unflinching. He lowers his gaze to somewhere around Saeran's knees. "You can't say you feel bad for abandoning someone to the person you abandoned, Saeyoung. But I'm not the only person in the world you can talk to. You have friends. I've read enough RFA logs to know that."

They're not that kind of friends. Not the kind that you go to with your emotional crises, or at least not for Saeyoung. Before he left, he was nine layers deep in pretending to be untouchable. Now that he's back, it's hard to maintain the 707 personality, but even harder to drop it.

They all know about his father. About his mother. They know he's spent the last six months locked up. Letting anyone into his head has always been difficult, but it's impossible now that he can't control how much space to give them. If he opens up about one thing, they're going to look for everything else. He can't talk about his feelings without people nodding and thinking, ah yes, Saeyoung, the abuse victim, the traumatized kid, the abductee. The one who's messed up about his brother. 

He has no idea how Saeran managed to integrate into his friend group more easily in six months than Saeyoung has in several years, but there's probably only room for one of them to be close with the RFA. And he can't blame anyone for wanting it to be Saeran. His kinder, sweeter, smarter, better brother. Saeyoung prefers Saeran over himself too.

"I don't know if they're my friends anymore," he says.

Saeran's eyebrows draw down on his forehead. "Are you kidding? Saeyoung, they love you. They're all dying to talk to you. You're the one who's shutting them out for some reason."

"I'm..." He stops. _I'm not_ , he was going to say, but he is. He's barely been in the messenger chatrooms, and when he does go in, he keeps it as light and surface-level as possible. But that's not because he doesn’t want to talk to them. It's because he knows that if he does let them see him, Saeyoung Choi, they're not going to want him around anymore. If he can't help with security, he can at least be funny.

Saeran, ever since they were kids, has been straightforward to a fault. He would get scared when Saeyoung snuck him out, not only at the thought of them getting caught, but because he knew himself to be a bad liar. He wouldn't say the RFA loves Saeyoung just to make Saeyoung feel better. Is that really what he sees?

"When Yoosung was here the other day," Saeran continues, "he really wanted to catch up with you, but you just ignored him. Just because I said I didn't want to spend time with you right then? Do you need me to arrange all your social appointments? Just hang out with your friends, they miss you. Stop moping around the house like you're all alone in the world, because you're not."

Saeyoung remembers Yoosung rushing to hug him. He didn’t even consider for a second making plans with Yoosung afterward.

"But..." Saeyoung closes his mouth on the words.

No. He's just going to say it. "But they don't really know me."

Saeran is silent at that. His eyes sweep over Saeyoung's hunched form.

"They don't?"

Saeyoung shakes his head, embarrassed. Another humiliating failure of his time away from his brother. Saeran spent all that time jealous of him for having friends, and he can't even have friends right.

"You're keeping parts of yourself from them," Saeran says slowly. "So you think if you let them see what you really feel, they won't accept you."

Saeyoung burns with shame, deep in his stomach. This is it, the exposed core of him. He stares hard at the floorboards. "Yeah."

"Hm."

His guts twist with discomfort. It's unbearable to show weakness to Saeran, and worse that Saeran doesn't seem to know how to respond. But then, how could he respond? By comforting Saeyoung? That would feel even worse, when Saeyoung has done such a dirt poor job of taking care of Saeran. It's not Saeran's job to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry your job interview went badly," Saeran says abruptly. "I was going to make dinner if that's okay."

Saeyoung struggles to push down the nervous energy surging through him. He can't let this upset him. He's gone this far in his life without involving his brother in his personal emotions, and what just happened is closer than he ever wanted to get. He feels a sense of gratitude toward Saeran for finding a way to move the conversation forward from his obvious ineptitude. It's up to him to clean up the rest, sweep up the remnants of his pathetic feelings and stash them away somewhere so they can move on.

"That sounds great," he says. "Thank you, Saeran."

For the rest of the night, Saeran barely talks to him. Saeyoung pretends not to care.

-

The next day, there's a knock on the door. Saeyoung opens it to see MC in a sundress and floppy hat, smiling up at him.

"Saeran's not here," he says. "I thought he was with you, actually." _Hope he hasn't been abducted again!_ That's the kind of joke he is not going to make to Saeran's romantic partner.

"No, I know. He's at Zen's." MC holds up a little basket. Lying in it is a single energy drink, tied with a blue ribbon in a bow. "Can I come in?"

In response, Saeyoung opens the door wider. MC makes their way past him into the kitchen. Saeyoung watches them put the drink away in the cupboard and then sit down at the table. They pat the seat next to them.

"Do you want to chat for a bit?"

Saeyoung hovers in the doorway. A deep suspicion is rearing its head. "Did Saeran tell you to come talk to me?"

"Yep," MC says. "But not for the reason you're thinking. Just come sit down, okay?"

What's the reason he's thinking? It's that he, Saeyoung, is so obviously a tragic mess. Saeran didn't know how to deal with it so he passed it off onto his partner. That's what he's thinking.

Saeyoung didn't get to know MC very well before he was kidnapped, but for some reason he always wanted them to like him. He remembers thrills coursing through him when MC would play along with one of his jokes. It feels like much longer than six months ago.

He sits in the seat around the corner from them.

Yesterday, Saeyoung felt so bad that it skimmed off some of the embarrassment of talking about his feelings. Today, he's really not in the mood. Especially not to talk about it with the person his brother is dating.

"If it's not what I'm thinking, then what is it?" he says. "And what do you think I'm thinking?"

"That Saeran sent me to talk with you about what happened yesterday," MC says. "But that's not it. It's not about you, it's about him. Saeran. I want to talk to you about what happened at Mint Eye."

Saeyoung sits up straight. This is the most forbidden topic of conversation. He’s barely heard the name since moving in.

"What? Really? Saeran wants that?"

"Mhm." MC takes off their hat and lays it on the table. They duck their head so their long hair hides some of their face. "Seven—Saeyoung—did it bother you when I came over the other day? When he was upset?"

"Um..." His stomach squirms. There's a partial truth he can tell that would be the nice thing to say. "I'm really glad that Saeran has you."

"Saeran thinks he's been enough of a burden on you. Throughout your lives. He says he doesn't want to bug you with his problems because you always had to take care of him when you were kids. But..." MC crosses their legs at the ankle, then uncrosses. It startles Saeyoung to see them fidgeting, like they're nervous about this too. "But I know that for me, to be able to comfort him feels good, and if that was taken away, my feelings would be hurt. I don't think you ever thought of it as a burden. Sorry if that's assuming too much."

Saeyoung resists the urge to scoot his chair back away from the table. These are private things he's kept to himself his whole life, and MC is just saying them, out loud, to his face. He crosses his arms protectively. "Of course it's not a burden," he says quietly. "He's my brother."

"But it's hard for him to talk to you now," MC continues. "Because you missed so much."

"I didn't have a choice," Saeyoung says, stung.

"I know!" MC looks up at him, eyes wide. "I didn't mean it like that. I don't blame you for anything that happened. If it's anyone's fault, it's Rika's." He doesn't miss how their eyes narrow as they say the name. "What I'm trying to say is... Saeran wants you to know what happened, but it's hard for him, because he thinks that if you know, you'll reject him. It's easier for him to talk to me because I was there for all of it, or at least for the worst of it. So when he's with me, he knows that there's nothing he can do or say that'll scare me off. I've already seen him at his lowest."

"And I haven't?" It's silly to feel defensive about it, but after all, MC has known Saeran for half a year. Saeyoung grew up with him. He's seen Saeran when he was hurt, crying, screaming. That's not his lowest?

MC hesitates, searching for the right words. Something about their caution annoys Saeyoung even more. Is MC better for Saeran than him because they're more tactful? Ugh, his thoughts are getting really pathetic.

"You've known him at a different part of his life than me," MC says. "There are things you and he shared that I'll never be able to understand. But it's been a long time since then. Saeran's been scared to spend time with you because he thinks you'll be disappointed that he's not the same person anymore. He's different from how you remember."

Saeyoung slumps in his chair. There's acid eating away at his insides. "Why can't he tell me that himself?"

MC takes a breath. "I'm going to show you the chatlogs. From when he was in Mint Eye. The things he used to say to me. That's why he asked me to come here, because I'm the only other one who has access to them, and he didn't want to be here to see your reaction. And..." MC tucks their hair behind their ear, but it falls into their face again. "And I think it'll be good if you have a little time to react after reading it, before you see him. He's really scared you'll think poorly of him."

"I won't think poorly of him," he says. "I wouldn't."

MC's face twists into a grimace. "I know you love him, but... I think you should prepare yourself for the possibility of having a negative reaction. It's okay if it's shocking. I mean... would you believe that Saeran could threaten me? Hurt me?"

Saeyoung frowns. The Saeran he knows never even raises his voice. "Seriously? He's crazy about you. He adores you."

"I know." MC's mouth hints towards a smile. "He does. And he's a sweet and kind person. A good person. He acted this way because of pain and fear. But it's real, and it's something you have to know about. And I really hope you can accept it."

His blood burns in his veins. MC doesn't know anything about him. There is nothing Saeran could do or say that would make Saeyoung reject him, nothing in the world. But there's fear building in his joints and fingertips. He's afraid to see what happened to his brother when Saeyoung wasn't there to protect him.

"I want to see it."

MC nods. "Okay." They take out their phone and navigate to the right screen. Saeyoung's heart is beating so fast his vision starts to blur. He forces himself to breathe. No matter what it is, he has to be able to handle it, if it will make Saeran feel better.

MC hands him the phone.

He starts scrolling. 

At first, he thinks it’s some kind of twisted prank. The person in these logs sounds nothing like Saeran. This person is cruel and mocking, alternately vicious and unstable. He doesn’t understand half of the logs—invectives about the differences between Ray and Saeran, whatever that means, and some kind of ceremony.

But then a dull horror creeps into his throat. There are turns of phrases he recognizes. Little touches that make this dialogue sound like Saeran. There’s an underlying neediness that’s so familiar, it squeezes all the air out of Saeyoung’s lungs. And there: he recognizes some of the abuse their mother used to hurl at them, spooling out underneath Saeran’s chat avatar. It’s as though someone has hooked his guts and jerked them a foot to the left.

At some point, MC gently prises the phone out of his grip. Saeyoung's vision blurs, and he realizes that he's crying. He tears his glasses off and puts them on the table, lowering his face into his hands. His shoulders hitch over and over, his body jerking with every harsh breath.

"It's my fault," he chokes out. "I did this. This happened to him because I left, I did this to him. He would never have—all of this—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

"Saeyoung!" MC's voice is sharp and clear above him. He feels their hands clutch his wrists. "It's not your fault."

"How can you say that?" he gasps. "I left him—I let her do this to him—"

"No!" MC shakes his wrists, tugging at him. "Saeyoung, listen. You left him with V, who you trusted. And V never did anything to hurt Saeran. There was no way you could have known what would happen."

"But—" Saeyoung tries to catch his breath, but he keeps tripping over little hiccuping sobs. "But I should have stayed. I only left because I was afraid—of our father—but he got me in the end anyway, so what was the point?"

"And if you'd stayed and gotten killed or kidnapped then, Saeran would be alone now. Listen." MC shakes his wrist again. He tries to focus on their words. "I know it hurts. But what happened to Saeran years after you left isn't about you. You have to live with having made the decision to leave. And Saeran has to live with this. Everything he did as part of Mint Eye. He has guilt too, okay? So what's important now is for him to know that you've seen this, and that you forgive him. You need to tell him that you accept him and care about him."

"Of course I do!" Saeyoung looks up at them, aghast, and pulls his wrist away from their hands. "There's nothing in the world that could make me reject Saeran."

MC looks down for a moment. Saeyoung can see a trembling go through their shoulders. "I'm glad. I'm really glad. He's a good person."

"He's the best person I know." Saeyoung wipes his eyes. Without the energy of tears, he feels hollow. He stops just short of spilling out the rest: that he, Saeyoung, only exists to protect and support Saeran. Sometimes as a kid he imagined himself as a degraded copy of Saeran, a photo of a photo, so much less vivid than the real thing.

“I don’t get it, though,” he says. “I don’t get how you fell in love with him when he was acting like that.”

“Who knows,” MC says. Saeyoung glances at MC in surprise, but they’re laughing. “I’m just joking. He was awful, but it was like a little kid yelling at an imaginary friend. I just felt sad for him. And I knew he could heal.”

Kind of a sick sense of humor. Saeyoung feels a surge of warmth. It feels good knowing he’s going to get along with his brother’s romantic partner.

“Have the rest of the RFA members seen this?”

MC shakes their head. “He doesn’t want them to know. It’s the first time he’s had friends. He doesn’t want to drag this ugliness into it.”

Pieces of yesterday are falling into place. Saeran abruptly withdrawing when Saeyoung said his friends didn't know him well enough. He must have been thinking of himself, hiding this from Saeyoung. So he contacted MC to reveal the parts of himself he was holding back.

Saeran really is more resilient than him. Saeyoung's been stuck in this situation with no idea how to pull himself out. Saeran saw the problem and immediately took steps to solve it. Saeyoung aches all over.

“When is Saeran coming back?”

“I don’t know. Not until tonight. He wasn’t sure you would want to see him.”

Saeyoung closes his eyes. “Can you tell him that I do?”

“Sure.” He feels MC’s fingers on his arm again. Cautious. There’s no one in the world who touches him with the kind of ease MC has in taking Saeran’s hand. He can’t remember the last time a touch didn’t feel like pity.

“Do you want me to stay?” MC asks. “Or do you want some time alone?”

Saeyoung’s eyes flutter open. “Alone, I think. Thanks.”

MC pat his arm again and stands. They seem reluctant to leave.

“You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah.” He’s just going to go sit in the dark and feel whatever’s clawing at the inside of his chest. Like any other day.

“Okay.” They hesitate, one hand grabbing the opposite elbow and then dropping it again. “You know, we both love him. You can text me sometime if you want to chat.”

Saeyoung shrugs. He wants to thank MC, but it sticks in his throat like a badly swallowed cracker. MC might love Saeran, but it doesn’t mean they know what Saeyoung is going through.

“Okay,” MC says again. Saeyoung stares at a corner of the table and listens to them walk out.

-

"Saeyoung." There's a rough touch on his shoulder. Saeyoung's eyes blink open. Yellow walls stare back at him. 

Right. He fell asleep in Saeran's room, waiting for Saeran to get home. He turns, and Saeran's face looms above him.

"Why are you in my room?"

Saeyoung yawns. His thoughts are still coalescing, little wisps spinning themselves into cotton candy in his head. "It's nicer than my room. Cleaner."

"I clean it."

Saeyoung smiles. "I'm glad you're home." He reaches behind his glasses to rub his eyes. When Saeran swims back into his vision, he sees that his arms are folded over his chest. There's tension held in his shoulders. In this moment, he notices again that Saeran is thinner than him, and his elbows look particularly pointy.

"MC talked to you," Saeran says. His voice is flat.

"Yeah." Saeyoung scrambles to sit up. "Thank you for letting them."

Saeran's shoulders inch higher. His hands grip the sides of his ribcage. "It's fine."

"You're a lot braver than me." Saeyoung pats the bed next to him. "Please, enter my parlor room so we may catch up on the latest society gossip."

"You're inviting me to sit down on my own bed."

"It's the best bed in the house. Only the comfiest for my brother."

Saeran sits down. He perches on the edge of the bed like a bird, ready to take off at any moment. "Why are you still acting so normal to me? I mean, normal for you. You saw what I was like."

Saeyoung sighs. Saeran is only about a foot away from him, but the distance between them has never felt greater. His brother might as well be displayed in a glass museum case.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm really sorry, because if you thought I was going to be mad at you, I must have failed you somehow. I don't care what you do, Saeran. You're my brother and I love you."

The stiffness in Saeran's body ratchets up a notch, a key wound just a little tighter. When his speaks, his voice is barely audible. "When we were kids. You made me promise not to change. You told me not to let Mom or anyone change me. I broke the promise."

Oh, God. He is a really horrible brother. Saeyoung gives himself the space of one breath to compose himself. He can't make this about his own insecurities. "I should never have made you promise that," he says vehemently. "It wasn't fair to you. You can't help being affected by people being cruel. It doesn't change who you are. And I know you, the real you, more than anyone else. I know you're a kind person."

For some reason, this only seems to agitate Saeran more. He grasps a handful of bedspread, fingers tightening until the knuckles turn white. Saeyoung knows he's out of practice, but he didn't think he was _this_ bad at being comforting. Saeran's internal world is incomprehensible to him.

"Saeyoung." Saeran clears his throat. His face has completely iced over. "How I acted in Mint Eye... all those things that I said. It was the real me. I was affected by the drugs and I was under a lot of stress. But it was really me who felt those things and said those things. Even if things are better now... I have to be careful not to let myself give in to that again."

"Oh." Saeyoung wants to argue, but the fog is starting to clear. He can make out the shape of his brother's feelings again. Saeran doesn't want to hear that he's a good person, because he can't believe it yet. It's so intimately familiar to Saeyoung, it feels like Saeran is knocking on the door of his house.

With a jolt, he realizes that this was why Saeran got freaked out playing the game the other day. Not because people have been cruel to him in the past. Because he's been cruel to others, and he didn't want to do it anymore.

There's still so much between them that's unsaid, but now that's on him. Saeran is trying to bridge the gap. It's Saeyoung who is still hiding in his bunker. He cards through the web of his thoughts, trying to pick out any useful threads.

"Can I ask a question?"

Saeran's fingers trace an amorphous pattern on the bedspread. "Sure."

Saeyoung turns the words over in his head, giving each one a good inspection before sending it out towards his brother.

"Before I ask, I want to say that it's okay. Whatever you need to do is okay. But when we were kids, you used to come to me with your problems, and you don't do that anymore." Saeyoung closes his eyes, unable to watch Saeran's face while he asks this part. "I know I messed up our relationship. But is there another reason you don't want me to take care of you anymore?"

"Yes," Saeran says. Saeyoung had thought he might need more time to think about it, but his answer comes right away. "When we were kids, you were the strong one, so I depended on you. I don't like feeling like that anymore. I don't want you to have to make up for my weakness."

Saeyoung opens his eyes and glances over at Saeran. He's trying to get better at communicating, but responding to this is impossible. What he needs to say is too big to wrap words around.

He knows Saeran is still struggling. He’s seen him flinch at odd moments, or go quiet and strained when Saeyoung says the wrong thing. But Saeran was there, in Mint Eye, acting the way Saeyoung saw in the chats, and now he’s here. Saeran thought Saeyoung hated him. He thought he had no one, and he still kept going. He found a single thread of light and used it to pull himself to safety. Compared to that, Saeyoung has the strength of a wet paper towel. It wouldn’t be nearly enough to protest that Saeran is the strong one, and Saeran probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. To say that his brother is stronger than him is like saying that Mars is bigger than a marble. He’s not practiced enough at speaking his thoughts to impress on Saeran how much of a better person he is.

 _It’s not weakness to be hurt._ Saeyoung knows that if he says this, or anything like it, Saeran will only recoil. Maybe he’s not the person Saeran needs to hear this from.

“I can understand that,” he says instead. “Thanks for answering.”

Saeran nods. His entire body is oriented away from Saeyoung, every one of his walls all the way up. Saeyoung wants to pull him in for a hug and ruffle his hair. But this is what Saeran can give him for now. It has to be enough. He thinks about what it means for Saeran to be here talking to him, trying to let Saeyoung into his life and his feelings. The knowledge expands inside him and fills in some of the emptiness.

A tiny green shoot of a thought pushes itself up into the light: if Saeran managed to crawl back from someplace so low, maybe he can too. Immediately, a hundred other thoughts shower down on it like hailstones. Saeyoung can’t do what Saeran did; he’s not smart or strong or brave enough; he wouldn’t deserve to be happy anyway; he can’t find people who love him like Saeran has; trying to feel better would be an insult to Saeran. He pushes the whole tangle out of his mind and focuses on his brother.

Saeran is here, beside him, alive. His eyes, behind the green contacts, are clear. Anything else is just details.

“I’m stealing this bed, by the way,” Saeyoung says. “You’ve arranged the pillows perfectly.”

Saeran rolls his eyes. “Get out of my room.”

-

In the end, Saeyoung can’t bring himself to make plans with Yoosung. He wants to, but he knows Yoosung will immediately get on the messenger app and gush about getting to spend time alone with Saeyoung. Then everyone will ask Yoosung to report back on how Saeyoung is doing, what they talked about, whatever. It’s a big headache. 

He texts Jaehee instead. _Tacos for lunch? Don’t tell Jumin._

She sends back a series of excited emojis.

He meets her at the office. She hums a little while they walk, harmonizing with his own nerves. After a minute, he realizes she’s humming the taco song he made up half a year ago. It’s like seeing a photo from last decade. He can’t recognize the person who made up that song as himself, even though he was suffering then, too. He hums along with her anyway, making up new flourishes and key changes and making her laugh.

They settle in with their tacos and Jaehee tells him about the new horrors of her job. He appreciates that she’s not saying things like, _I’m glad you finally decided to leave the house_ or _We’ve all been worried about you._ This is exactly why Jaehee was the person he wanted to see. 

She doesn’t bring up Saeran either, even though Saeyoung wouldn’t mind talking about him. Saeyoung likes the reminders that his brother is now a part of his life, dragged out from the shadows.

When the conversation stalls, he says, “Saeran told me you helped him with the computer stuff, by the way. To find me. Thanks for that.”

“Oh!” Jaehee’s cheeks pinken. “Of course! You’re welcome. Saeran is—a fine young man.”

“I know, he’s nicer than me, right?” Jaehee’s flush deepens, and she opens her mouth, unsure what to say. “Not as cute, though.” Saeyoung winks.

“I wouldn’t be able to judge,” Jaehee says diplomatically.

“Um, Jaehee.” Saeyoung kicks the leg of his chair. The nervous energy in him is roaring to its peak. He drums his fingertips on the rim of his plate. “I know you and Jumin and Saeran were working on rescuing me together. So whatever details Jumin knows, you probably know.”

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Jaehee says. She’s still taken aback, but she seems determined to step up to the plate and provide whatever help Saeyoung is searching for.

Saeyoung exhales, trying to let some of his anxiety escape with his breath. It doesn’t really work. His heart is working overtime, seizing up on every beat. Squeezing him too tight from the inside. If he says the first words, everything else will follow.

“You know my maid?” he says. “Ms. Vanderwood?”

There. Now it’s impossible to wimp out. He presses his hand against his leg under the table, digging his fingers into his thigh.

Jaehee nods, so he forces himself to keep going. “She wasn’t really my maid. It was just a dumb joke. She was my associate at the agency, and she got kidnapped at the same time I did.” Blood rushes to his head in a dizzy haze. His body is trying to keep him from talking about this.

He’s not done, but the turmoil inside him is making it hard to speak. The pause drags out long enough for Jaehee to step in. “We did hear there was someone else,” she says slowly.

Saeyoung closes his eyes, then opens them again. No spiraling into darkness. He is going to stay here and talk about this.

“She was kind of a friend,” he says. “I think. She was always annoyed with me, but... I think we were friends. You know, they only kept me alive because they thought I might know where to find Saeran. So once they realized Vanderwood didn’t even know who Saeran was, they took her into another room. And I didn’t see her after that.” The table swims in front of his eyes, his grip on reality scurrying away from him. He clenches his first, digging his nails into the meat of his palm, trying to stay in the moment.

“I’ve been assuming she’s dead,” Saeyoung says. “But when I asked, they wouldn’t tell me. I never heard any gunshots or screams or anything. She just disappeared. So I just wondered... if you knew anything. If there was someone else there, or—a body—or anything.” He breathes through his nose. He got through it. Now all he has to do is deal with the fallout, any sympathy or condolences Jaehee is going to throw his way. It’ll be tolerable, probably.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Saeyoung, I don’t know anything about that.” To his horror, Jaehee’s voice sounds tight, like she’s close to tears. This is exactly the problem with opening up. Vanderwood’s absence is a fact he’s been living with for months—he doesn’t need someone else suddenly feeling bad for him over it. He doesn’t need to deal with anyone else’s feelings about how depressing his kidnapping was.

“That’s okay. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.” Embarrassment grips his stomach in an iron fist. There’s no way he’s managing to look calm and composed, much less 707-style carefree. It’s utterly humiliating.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehee says again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” He muscles his mouth into a grin. “Not everyone can be a professional secret agent like me.” He realizes too late that the secret agent schtick is not going to seem as lighthearted as it used to, not now that everyone knows he was never joking. God, he is so bad at this.

Jaehee smiles though, seemingly also relieved to have been given a way out of the tense atmosphere. “No, we can’t.”

“You just have to settle for terrifyingly competent corporate assistant.”

“Not that competent.” Jaehee sighs. The way she holds herself, reserved and restrained, reminds Saeyoung a little of Saeran.

“What are you talking about? At least seventy percent of corporate heirs in the RFA couldn’t function without you.”

Jaehee gives a little laugh, one hand covering her mouth. 

“Saeyoung...” she says. Her voice is dipping dangerously close to sincere again. Saeyoung presses his teeth together, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. But all Jaehee says is, “I’m really glad you’re back.”

 _That makes one of us!_ He’s not going to say that. He looks down at the table, embarrassed again, and says, “Thanks.”

“I really missed you.”

Saeyoung blinks rapidly, holding his face frozen. What was there to miss? His stupid jokes, his dumb inventions? The loud nonsense Jaehee always determinedly ignored? It’s incomprehensible. But she’s saying it, and she must really mean it. The least he can do is try to believe her.

“Thanks,” he says. “I really missed you too.” Jaehee gives a real smile then, the kind that makes her personality almost shine through the corporate veneer. Saeyoung adds, “We could have used you. Kidnappers are terribly disorganized.”

She snorts with laughter. “Please don’t say that. Mr. Han will have me seeking out local gang dens to whip them into shape.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m positive they weren’t paying their taxes correctly.”

“Mr. Han would say that’s very irresponsible.”

They both laugh. Saeyoung takes a big bite of taco, filling his mouth so he doesn’t have to think of anything else to say.

Saeran said talking about it helped. He doesn’t see any evidence of that yet. Talking about what happened is just pointless torture, a little less preferable to walking on steak knives. But his brother is so much smarter than him. He can keep trying until he understands.

The sun shines through the window, the sky clear and blue through the cafe window. Clouds move lazily across the expanse like giant ships. 

Saeran would love it. Saeyoung can stand it for now.


End file.
